Spring
by littlest clouds
Summary: [COMPLETE] Every aspect of Spring Danielson's life is shattered when her beloved Mommy dies. Can Spring find herself in a cruel world, or will she be yet another teenage casualty?
1. Prologue

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PROLOGUE: THE BEGINNING OF THE END

My daddy, Jeremy Danielson, and my mother, Priscilla Ferrara, were what one would call a 'Hollywood' couple. For the first thirteen years of their marriage, they lived the perfect life here in the Los Angeles suburbs. Daddy made sure Mommy and I had only the best. He made sure Mommy and I got only the best cars, clothes, jewels, food and love that money could buy.

But money runs out, eventually, and even a daddy's love runs out, as I soon learned.

When I was thirteen, my life fell apart. It did not happen in one swift fall from grace. It happened gradually, over the years, only I was too young to realise what was happening. It started out with angry glares, and progressed to little arguments. Soon, it moved on to large fights, and it escalated into Daddy's ultimate betrayal.

Mommy had hired nineteen-year-old Claire Ward to be our cleaning girl on the weekends. Every Saturday, she would come over and clean the house. Mommy didn't like having full-time servants because she was worried they might steal from us. She figured she would not have that problem with a part-time maid.

How wrong she was. Claire did steal from us; only what she stole was far more expensive than the costliest Persian rug, or the most expensive Picasso painting. What she stole from us was Daddy.


	2. Chapter 1: In the Beginning

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CHAPTER ONE: IN THE BEGINNING

In the beginning, we really had no reason not to trust Claire. She was pretty and petite with blonde hair, and had bright blue eyes and a nice smile. There was nothing very special about her, or so I thought, but all Daddy could do after Mommy hired her was praise her 'luminous beauty', as he was wont to say in those early days.

"That cleaning girl you hired, she's a real looker," he told Mommy over dinner, the night after we hired her.

Mommy only shot him a cold look as she cut her meat with her fork and knife. "It's nice that you like her, Jeremy," Mommy said, coldly. "But that's not why I hired the girl."

And that was the end of the conversation. I knew something had been going on between Mommy and Daddy, but I was too young and naive to know what was really happening to our family. I figured the problems would be solved in the morning and everything would be fine come dawn.

I began thinking about what Daddy said, after dinner, as I lay in bed. _He never says Mommy's pretty anymore_, I thought, as I struggled to get to sleep. _He used to call her pretty all the time. In fact, he called her _gorgeous_; he called her beautiful, sizzling, hot Now, all he does is talk about how luminous our stupid maid is..._

I thought Mommy was much prettier than Claire was. Mommy had high cheekbones, a clear, olive-coloured complexion without a blemish, bright black, polished eyes and the sleekest, glossiest raven mane. Mommy said she got her unique looks from her Spanish ancestors, and would tell me stories from the past, late at night, when I was a girl.

"When I was a girl, Spring, my mommy Esmeralda would tell my about my great-grandmother, Sofia. Sofia was Spanish nobility, and lived in a town called Majorca, in Spain. Sofia was so beautiful, Spring, with long, black hair and dark eyes like onyx jewels. All the young men of her town longed to possess her, but Sofia was like the wind. She could not be possessed. Well, one day, shortly after she turned fifteen, Sofia met a handsome young man as she was returning home with her footman from visiting a friend in Castille. His name was Reynaldo. Reynaldo was seventeen and had skin darkened by working in the sun. He had a beautiful smile with dimples, and bright black eyes like polished stone. Reynaldo was immediately smitten with Sofia, as she was with him. Sofia and Reynaldo returned to Majorca and told her parents they planned to marry," Mommy whispered to me, as I struggled to sleep. She would hold my head on her lap and stroke my hair. I was almost ashamed that I got Daddy's dirty blond hair and not Mommy's sleek, black mane.

"What happened, Mommy?" I asked, even though I had heard this particular story millions of times.

"Well, Sofia's mommy, the elderly Teresita, and her husband, Pedro, forbid Sofia from marrying Reynaldo _just_ because he was a vagabond-"

"What's a vagabond?" I asked, holding on to her tightly. Her voice always became so small and distant when she told me these stories, and I feared I might lose her to the past.

"Well, Spring, it means a drifter, someone who travels the world. Someone with no real place to call home. Anyway, Pedro and Teresita did not want their daughter, descended from a noble family, to marry this drifter. 'You can not wed her!'" Mommy switched to the voice of Don Pedro, a high pitched, wheezing voice. I loved when she did their voices because she was so good at it. "'I forbid it! My daughter will not marry a worthless vagabond!' Well, needless to say, Sofia was enraged! She became so mad at her mommy and daddy, and begged and pleaded with them to let her marry her beloved Reynaldo, but they would not budge. After weeks of begging, Sofia and Reynaldo sneaked up to the highest tower in her ancestral home and pledged themselves to one another. Then, Sofia brought a box from behind her back."

"What was in the box, Mommy?" I asked, smiling up at her.

Mommy smiled back. "Beloved Spring, Sofia had a vial of poison in that wooden box, and took it out." Mommy switched to Sofia's voice, which was soft and flowing, like a river. "'My dear Reynaldo, the only way we can truly be together is if we die together! They will not let us marry in flesh, so we must marry in spirit instead!' Sofia was just about to lift the poison to her lips when her daddy busted the attic door down. 'SOFIA,' he cried, 'WHAT ARE YOU _DOING_?!' He ran to her and grabbed the poison from her hand. 'You will not let Reynaldo and I marry, so we will die together instead," she told her daddy, glaring coldly at the old man. Now, old Don Pedro was a smart man, and he could not let his only child, at the time, pass on to the spirit realm. So he said, 'I am sorry, Sofia darling. You may marry Reynaldo if he means that much to you, even more than your own life.'"

"Yay!" I cried, clapping my hands.

"Yes," Mommy smiled. "Reynaldo and Sofia were married, and before long, they had four beautiful girls and a dear son. That son, Enrique, grew to be a strikingly handsome man. Enrique moved to America when he turned eighteen and took a wife from Mexico-"

"Grandma Rosita," I said.

"Yes, Grandma Rosita. And Grandma and Grandpa moved to Boston, Massachusetts; had your uncles Mariano, Alejandro and Ramiro; and one daughter" Mommy's ruby-red lips curled into a smile as she came to this part in the story.

"Yes, a daughter named Priscilla," I finished the story for her.

"Good night, darling Spring. Don't worry about your daddy and I, dear. Everything will be better in the morning." She kissed me on the cheek and shut my bedroom door.

I should have known better than to believe her. I should have flipped the shining coin to look for the tarnish that I knew I would find, if only I searched hard enough. If only I had not trusted Claire at the beginning, if only I had not befriended her. If I had shunned her, as I had wanted to do in the beginning, Mommy would probably still be here with me.

---

TBC


	3. Chapter 2: Mommy!

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CHAPTER TWO: MOMMY!

I remember it was a breezy summer day, when it happened. When Mommy left us forever. I was planning on celebrating my passing freshman year by going out and buying an ice cream cone. I had been worried I might not pass, but luckily for me, I managed a C- in my math class. Mommy and Daddy had not been pleased with the grade, obviously, but they were glad I passed.

After buying my ice cream, I ran into friends from school and we went to see a movie, but only after I called Mommy and told her where I would be. To this day, I cannot even remember what the movie was called, that is how insignificant it was. I remember I came home and Mommy wasn't at the door to greet me.

"That's odd," I said to myself, "where could Mommy be?" I put my jacket on the coat rack and went exploring, searching for Mommy. She was not in the kitchen, where she usually was when I returned from school, so I went upstairs, to her room. I heard some strange noises coming from the bathroom; they sounded like humming.

"Mommy," I said, "are you in there?" I stopped at her bathroom door, which was closed, and tried the ornate brass doorknob. It was unlocked, and I pushed it open.

At first, I didn't notice anything _too_ odd. The shower curtain was drawn, and the water was running. I assumed she was taking a shower, and turned to leave. Just as I went to leave, I happened to notice that the water was spilling over the edge of her marble bathtub. My heart began to pound in my chest.

"Mommy!"

I tore back the shower curtain. Mommy was floating face down in the bathtub, her long, beautiful black hair floating above her head like seaweed. She was wearing her white lace wedding dress and a single silver chain around her neck. I charged forward and grabbed her by her shoulders, trying to drag her from the tub. I managed to halfway drag her out of the marble tub, and cradled her cold face in my hands. Her lips were blue and her eyes were wide open, staring at everything and nothing. I dragged a shaking hand over her eyes, shutting them, and held her in my arms and began to scream.

"DADDY! DADDY! COME QUICK! SOMETHING'S HAPPENED TO MOMMY! DADDY! DADDY! DADDY!" When Daddy didn't come, I sat back on my heels and held Mommy's limp, lifeless body to mine, hugging and rocking her, hoping that maybe the warmth from my body could jar her cold form awake. "Mommy," I whimpered, "why? Why did you do it? Why?"

I spotted a piece of folded notebook paper that had fallen to the floor and snatched it up in my hand, unfolding it and I began reading.

__

My dear, beloved Spring,

I'm so sorry I had to do this. But as you will soon find out, there was no other way. There was no more room in his heart for me.

I'm sorry, so very, very sorry, but I hope you can forgive my weakness and me.

One day.

Your loving Mommy

Sobbing now, I crinkled the note in my hand and jammed it into the pocket of my sopping wet jeans. I tried to lift Mommy's lifeless body, but she was too heavy, and I collapsed to the bathroom tile with her. I pressed my lips to hers, trying to breathe life back into her lungs, but I knew she had been in the water far too long.

"If only I knew CPR, I could have saved her," I sobbed, holding on to her body. "MOMMY!"

She had put on her wedding dress to die. I hadn't realised it until the paramedics finally arrived to take her away. To take my Mommy from me forever. I wouldn't let them separate us. There was no way I'd let them take her from me. Even if it meant that I would have to die as well. I clung to her cold body as they tried to take her away, screaming and screaming.

As a large man tried to pry me away from her stiffened body, I screamed, summoning all the pain in my heart. "NO! YOU CAN'T TAKE MY MOMMY AWAY!" I shrieked, batting his hands away from her. "LET ME DIE TOO, MOMMY! LET ME BE DEAD AND WE CAN BE TOGETHER! LIKE SOFIA AND REYNALDO WANTED TO DO! LET ME DIE TOO, MOMMY! LET ME DIE!"

"Someone please control this child!" the man snapped harshly, shoving me away from him. "We've got work to do!"

Someone, Daddy I think, grabbed me and picked me up in his arms, kissing my tears and holding me in his arms. I tasted something salty on my lips, but I realised those were his tears. "It's just you and me now, Spring. It's just you and me," he whispered.

I should have known he was lying. Even then, so soon after her death, he was lying. Less than two months later, Claire moved into our house, and into Daddy's heart.


	4. Chapter 3: Betrayed

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CHAPTER THREE: BETRAYED

I never liked Claire Ward, not even in the beginning, when I believed she was just hired to take care of me now that Mommy was in heaven. Daddy thought I would need someone to care for me, and according to him, this girl, our cruel, discourteous maid, was the perfect person to do so.

I know _now_ why he hired her. He hired her because she was his mistress, even then, and wanted to be closer to her without it looking like he was moving too fast. I was so foolish to trust him. I wish I had known from the beginning that my Daddy was a two-faced, lying snake.

"Now stop that crying, Spring! I won't have anymore of this nonsense in my house!"

It was three months after Mommy died, and I was buried face down in my bed, sobbing. I cried a lot during those days, and having Claire hovering around me 24/7 was no help, either.

"I said stop that crying! Crying isn't going to bring your mommy back," she taunted, cruelly. "I'm your mommy now, Spring, and I say stop that at once!"

I turned my head to her, swiping the tears from my eyes. "You'll never be my mommy, Claire! NEVER! You may take over her place in the bed, at night, but you'll never replace my mommy in mine or Daddy's hearts!"

"You spoiled little brat," she screamed, marching forward and grabbing me by the shoulders. "I'll show you!" She slapped me across the face. As she raised her hand to hit me again, I struck back, sending her reeling, clutching her hand to her jaw.

"_Never_ touch me! Not even in a motherly gesture! I don't want you anywhere near me," I screamed at her, shoving past her and running down the hall. "I wish you were _dead_, Claire! As dead as my mommy!" I ran straight to Daddy's office, where he was doing paperwork. He looked up from his desk and sighed heavily, frowning.

"What's happened now, Spring?" Daddy asked, in a heavy, morose tone.

"Daddy, that _woman_ you hired hit me!" I screamed at him, pointing to the welt I knew was on my face. But instead of getting upset at what Claire had done to me, he became upset with _me_!

"You mustn't talk back to your elders," he snapped at me, his warm blue eyes turning as cold and hard as polished gemstones. "When Claire tells you to do something, you do it! Do you understand me, Spring?"

"Daddy, how can you _side_ with that horrible woman?!" I cried, angry that he would not listen to what I was saying, or me. Daddy was blind to that woman's faults. He believed every horrible lie she spewed about me. He had changed. I didn't know him anymore.

"Because she's your new mommy now," he said, calmly and evenly.

"What do you mean?" I asked, my arms and legs going cold.

"I married Claire last week, in a private, secret ceremony. She's your new mommy, and she's going to be taking care of you now," he said, as if he were talking to a business partner and not his daughter. "I expect you to obey her as you did your real mommy, Spring. I won't hear of this nonsense about her striking you. I won't hear of it. She has every right to punish you the way she sees fit."

"Daddy, how could you marry that awful girl so soon after Mommy's suicide?!" I screamed at him, surprising both Daddy and myself with my rage. "HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO MOMMY?! HOW COULD YOU, DADDY?!"

"Stop this, Spring! Stop it now!" He got up from his plush leather chair and walked around his desk, to grab me by my shoulders. He shook me, still yelling at me. "Stop this nonsense, Spring! You're not a baby, are you?! Stop shrieking as if you _are_ one, then! STOP it, I say! Stop it now!"

"Daddy," I screamed at him, paying no heed to his angry words, "I hate you! I wish it were _you_ who died and not Mommy! Mommy was a good, kind woman who never did anyone wrong! It should be _you_ lying in that cold dirt grave, _not_ her!" I pulled free of his hands and turned, running for my bedroom. Claire was in the hallway listening to every word, waiting for me, her blue eyes hard and bitter.

"You mustn't talk back to your daddy," she snarled at me, meanly. "Since I'm your new mommy, you'll obey me. You will not mention Priscilla anymore; do you understand me? This is _my_ house now, Spring. _My_ house and everything that once belonged to that _woman_ is now mine. Her clothing, her jewels, her shoes, EVERYTHING of hers now belongs to me!" she taunted me in a singsong voice, raising her hands.

I saw what Claire was clutching. She was holding the diamond and ruby necklace Mommy had given me for my fourteenth birthday. "You can't have that," I snapped at her, harshly, forgetting what she and Daddy had tried to hammer into my brain. "That's mine! Mommy gave it to me and you can't touch it!" I grabbed the necklace out of her hands. "It's _MINE_, Claire, not yours!"

"Your beastly little brat," she hollered, grabbing it away from me. "I'll make sure you never see this necklace again!" Without warning, Claire dashed the necklace to the marble floor and brought her foot down on it, smashing it to pieces.

"NO! MOMMY'S NECKLACE! YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE DONE THAT!" I screamed, shoving her out of the way and gathering the broken necklace into my hands. "THAT WAS MY MOMMY'S LAST GIFT TO ME, YOU BITCH! I HATE YOU! I HOPE YOU ROT IN HELL, WHERE YOU BELONG!"

All of my screaming brought Daddy to my side, where he saw me holding Mommy's necklace to my chest. "Spring," he barked, "what have you done to Claire?" He stepped over me and swept that awful woman into his arms, showering her face with kisses. "Claire, darling, why are you crying? What did she do?"

"She broke the necklace you said I could have," Claire whined, faking tears. "That brat snatched it out of my hand and said, 'If I can't have it, you can't either', and stomped it to pieces!"

"Those are lies," I screamed, jumping to my feet, "those are all lies, Daddy! She wanted to have Mommy's necklace! When I wouldn't give it to her, she threw it to the ground and crushed it with the heel of her boot!"

"NO MORE!" Daddy boomed, letting go of Claire to crack me across the cheek. "I'll have no more of your insidious lies, Spring! I've half a mind to throw you across my lap and beat your bottom until it turns red!"

Claire smiled. "She's a spoiled little girl, Jeremy. She should be punished. Teach her the lessons that Priscilla never had the nerve to!"

"You're right, dear," Daddy smiled winningly at Claire, his eyes softening for her the way they once did for my mommy and me. "You're always right." He grabbed me by the arm and dragged me into my room, shoving me onto the bed and slamming the door behind him, turning his key in the lock. "I'm going to do something I should have done when you were little! Your mommy always complained that it wasn't right to strike children! Bah! Maybe if I struck you as a child, you wouldn't be so insolent today!" Daddy removed his belt from around his waist. "COME HERE, SPRING!"

"Daddy, she lied-" I began, but he cut me off harshly.

"NO MORE OF YOUR LIES, SPRING! I KNOW HOW YOU ARE OUT TO GET CLAIRE! SHE'S YOUR NEW MOTHER NOW! YOU HAVE TO FORGET ABOUT YOUR MOTHER! SHE'S DEAD AND SHE'S NEVER COMING BACK! I HAD TO MOVE ON, AND YOU MUST, AS WELL! I WON'T HAVE YOU DISRESPECTING CLAIRE," he screamed at me.

I'd never seen such an ugly look on my Daddy's face. When I did not budge, he grabbed me by the arm and threw me across his lap. "BAD GIRLS GET PUNISHED, SPRING! YOU'RE A BAD GIRL! HOW COULD YOUR REAL MOMMY LOVE YOU NOW, AFTER WHAT YOU'VE DONE?!" he screamed, as he brought the belt down on my rear end. "YOUR MOMMY DIED BECAUSE OF YOU," the man I once considered Daddy snarled, in an ugly tone I had never heard him use until Claire barged into our lives. "YOUR MOMMY KILLED HERSELF BECAUSE SHE COULDN'T HANDLE YOU ANYMORE, SPRING! SHE KILLED HERSELF BECAUSE YOU WERE A BAD DAUGHTER! WHAT WOULD SHE DO IF SHE COULD SEE US NOW, HUH SPRING?! WHAT WOULD SHE DO?! SHE'D LEAVE US BECAUSE OF YOU, THAT'S WHAT SHE'D DO!"

I cried out, but not from the pain, which was immense. "SHE'D TELL YOU TO THROW THAT WHORE OUT OF YOUR BED," I screamed back at him, my voice just as loud and as resonant as his. "SHE KILLED HERSELF BECAUSE OF YOUR WHORE, DADDY! SHE FOUND OUT YOU WERE SLEEPING WITH CLAIRE! SHE WROTE ME A LETTER! SHE KNEW! _YOU'RE_ THE REASON MOMMY DIED! NOT ME!"

Daddy lowered his arm and pushed me aside. "That's not true," he insisted, his voice shaking. "That's not true, Spring! Mommy didn't know! She couldn't have known, Spring! I tried to keep it a secret!"

"You admit it then," I cried, glaring at him with such hate, he looked away. "I _hate_ you, Daddy. I hate you so much, I wish I had the courage to kill myself and join Mommy in heaven. But I don't. Instead I'll remain as a reminder of what you did to my mother. I hate you Daddy, and I hate the evil, vile woman that replaced Mommy in your bed. I hope you both rot in hell for what you've done to my mommy! Tell your whore I said that!"

Daddy stood up, looming over me, his eyes hard and his voice cold. "You must never call your mommy a wh-" he began, but I cut him off.

"SHE'S NOT MY MOMMY! SHE'LL NEVER REPLACE MOMMY! NEVER!" I screamed, shoving him to the door. "SHE'LL NEVER BE ANYTHING TO ME! NOTHING MORE THAN A WHORE! A HARLOT! GO OUT AND TELL HER THAT!"

"Keep your voice down," he snapped, pulling from my hands.

"NO! I WILL _NOT_ KEEP MY VOICE DOWN! I WANT THE WHOLE NEIGHBOURHOOD TO KNOW WHAT YOU DID TO MY MOMMY!" I screamed, opening the door and throwing him out.

I threw myself onto my bed, sobbing without abandon. _Before Claire, everything was perfect! Before her, Mommy and Daddy loved one another and they were loyal to one another! Before Claire, we were a family, a happy family! But she had to change it! I'll show her! I'll show her what Spring Priscilla Danielson is all about!_


	5. Chapter 4: Replaced in Daddy's Heart

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CHAPTER FOUR: REPLACED IN DADDY'S HEART

Three months later, in the middle of dinner, Claire announced that she was pregnant with my Daddy's child. I could not believe that in only six months, Daddy had remarried and was expecting a child with Claire.

"You _can't_ be pregnant," I exploded, slamming down my silverware. "You _can't_ be!" I turned to Daddy. "Tell me it's not true, Daddy! She can't be pregnant!"

"Stop acting so childish," he admonished, shaking his head at me with disdain. "Your mother is excited about the baby, and I expect you to be as well. Do not act like such a spoiled, rotten brat, Spring."

"She's _not_ my mother," I snapped back, glaring at him. "My _mother_ is dead. My _mother_ lies in a wood box, six feet underground. My _mother_ is rotting in the dirt!"

"WE GET THE POINT, SPRING!" Daddy hollered at me, slamming his fist onto the dinner table, rattling the plate. "Now congratulate your moth- Claire like a good daughter would!"

Seeing he was not going to relent, I turned to face Claire. In my falsest sweet voice, I said, "I congratulate you and Daddy on your baby, Claire. I'm sure it will be wonderful."

"I'm sure it will be, too," she snapped, her hard, unflinching blue eyes trained on me. "And I expect you'll share a room with the baby."

"Why?" I cried. "We have enough rooms to make a nursery! Why does it have to move into _my_ room?!"

"The baby is _hardly_ an 'it', Spring," Claire flared, glaring hatefully at me. "She has a name! Her name will be Cherish, and you are going to share a room with your sister, whether you like it or not!"

"Cherish? Who came up with _that_ stupid name? Claire, I'm guessing." I smiled sweetly at Claire.

"You ungrateful brat!" Claire slapped me across the face, leaving an angry red mark on my face. "You should be happy your father doesn't throw you out on the streets where you belong, you little tramp!"

"Where _I_ belong?!" I exploded, jumping to my feet. "You wormed your way into his bed! YOU'RE the tramp, NOT I!"

"ENOUGH, SPRING! YOU WILL NOT SPEAK TO YOUR STEPMOTHER IN SUCH AN INSOLENT, DISRESPECTING TONE! YOU WILL GO TO YOUR ROOM WITHOUT SUPPER! AND YOU CAN FORGET ABOUT BREAKFAST, LUNCH AND DINNER TOMORROW, AS WELL!" Daddy hollered at me, as I started to push my chair away from the dining room table. "BUT NOT WITHOUT APOLOGISING TO YOUR STEPMOTHER!"

"Never! I'll _never_ apologise to _her_! I'll _never_ apologise to my daddy's whore!" I leapt to my feet and screamed back at him with such hate I surprised even myself.

"NOW, SPRING! BEFORE I JUMP OVER THIS TABLE AND BEAT THE LIVING DAYLIGHTS OUT OF YOU," he snarled.

"NO! NEVER!" I snarled right back, shoving aside my plate. "I COULDN'T EAT ANOTHER BITE! IT TASTED LIKE HORSE MANURE!" I smiled at Claire sweetly as I slammed down my fork and knife.

"GO TO YOUR ROOM, SPRING! GO TO YOUR ROOM, _NOW_! GO ON, GET!" Daddy yelled, pointing toward the stairs with his butter knife. "BEFORE I TAKE YOU THERE MYSELF!"

I turned and fled for my room, not letting Claire or Daddy see my bitter tears. _When did it get this bad?!_ I wondered to myself, as I flung myself onto my bed. _When did Daddy turn into such a monster?_

"When Mommy hired Claire," my inner voice whispered. "When Mommy hired Claire and she replaced Mommy in hers and Daddy's bed. When Mommy hired Claire and they made your mommy die."

"Why?" I sobbed to myself, "why did Daddy do it? Why did he betray Mommy?"

"Because he's selfish," my inner voice whispered back. "Because he just _had_ to have Claire, and in doing so, he pushed Mommy away. And made her kill herself."

"What am I going to do? What will I do without Mommy? I'm so alone," I wept, "I'm so alone without Mommy! Who will tell me bedtime stories? Who will hold me in her lap? Who will sing her Spanish childhood songs to me?" I sobbed and sobbed, clutching my pillow in my arms.

There was no answer.


	6. Chapter 5: The New Baby

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DISCLAIMER: THIS IS BASED ON THE WORKS OF VC ANDREWS. I DON'T CLAIM HER STYLE AS MY OWN.

CHAPTER FIVE: THE NEW BABY

Six months later, Claire gave birth to a healthy, blond haired, blue-eyed baby boy. They named the foul little thing not Cherish, but Brandon and he quickly replaced me in Daddy's eyes. He spent all his waking moments with Brandon, fussing over him, kissing and coddling him, and pampering him. He finally had the son Mommy never gave him, and I knew he didn't need me anymore. Claire became worse than ever, bossing me around and forcing me to be her slave while she was rendered to her bed following the birthing.

"Get me a glass of water," she demanded, as she lay in her bed, propped up by mounds of pillows. "And make sure you put ice in it." She thrust her empty glass into my hand and stabbed me with her cold, dagger-like eyes.

"I'm not your slave," I snapped. "Why don't you have Mrs. Carrington do it? That's what you pay her for."

I shoved the glass back into her hand and started for the door, but Daddy clamped his hands on my shoulders. "Do what she says, Spring. I won't ask you twice," he ordered, giving me a shove toward the door.

"Why?" I snapped, angrily, pulling out of his grip. "I'm not her servant. You hired Mrs. Carrington to serve that _thing_ you call your wife, so why don't you order _her_ to get her ice water?!"

"Spring, I will not ask you again," he snapped, tightly, his lips pursed. "Now go and get her ice water."

"No," I snapped, rebelliously, pulling away from him. "I won't." I turned and stormed down the hall, heading for the front door. I stopped to grab my coat as Daddy charged after me, a mad look in his eyes.

"Get back to her this instant, Spring! I mean it!" he roared, just as I slipped out the door and slammed it in his face.

I ran down the sidewalk, not noticing the tears streaking down my face. I had to find _someone_, maybe one of my friends, like Joyce Roberts, or Shelly Gold, or maybe Pru McDaniels. But I knew they had alienated me when Mommy died, and were going out of their way at school to avoid me. I had to find someone. I decided to find Brad Anderson, my friend from science class. Brad was a very bright boy with dark black hair and emerald eyes. I sometimes turned to Brad when I needed help in science, or just a shoulder to lean on.

"Hello, Mrs. Anderson," I said, when Brad's mother, Margaret, opened the door. "Is Brad here? I have to talk to him."

Brad's mother smiled and allowed me into her foyer, taking my jacket and hanging it on the coat rack. "Is something the matter, Spring?" she asked, sweetly.

"Yes," I replied, folding my arms beneath my breasts. "Something is the matter, Mrs. Anderson, and I really need to talk to Brad, if he's home."

Nodding her head, Mrs. Anderson pointed toward Brad's bedroom. "He's upstairs in his room, studying. I'm sure he won't mind taking a break from his science if it's you." Mrs. Anderson squeezed my shoulder, not prying into why I needed to see her son. I liked that about his mother. She understood, and was much more understanding than my father.

When I came to his bedroom door, I rapped on it, and called out softly, "Brad, it's Spring. May I come in? I need to talk to you."

"Sure" came his muffled reply, and I opened the door and stepped in, shutting it behind me. He was in his bed, scratching down science notes into his notebook. Looking up at me, he saw the worry lines creasing my forehead and pushed aside his homework. "What's wrong, Spring? You look like you're about to cry-"

He had barely gotten the words out when I began bawling. I ran to his bedside and he put his arms around me. "Oh Brad, it's horrible living with my daddy now! He's turned into someone I don't even know! I don't know if I can go back there!"

"Ssh," he whispered, smoothing my hair. "Start from the beginning."

"Daddy married our maid two months after Mommy's death, and all ready, this woman considers herself queen of the household. It's awful. She treats me like dirt beneath her feet, and hits me. And Daddy beats me, too. It was never like this before," I whimpered, as he held me and rocked me in his arms.

"I'll be there for you, Spring," he whispered, pressing his lips against my cheek. "You can stay here, with me and my mom. We'll take care of you, Spring. You won't have to go back to your daddy if you don't want to."

"Thank you Brad, thank you so much. I knew you'd understand," I cried, hugging him tightly and kissing his cheek. "We have to tell your mother." 

***

TBC

Alex


	7. Chapter 6: Mommy's Secret

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CHAPTER SIX: MOMMY'S SECRET

As was expected, in the beginning, Mrs. Anderson was a little reluctant to keep my whereabouts a secret from my father. I always knew Mrs. Anderson and her husband David, who died in a boating accident a few summers ago, were close to my Mommy and especially my Daddy. I knew it would be hard for her to keep such a big secret from my father.

"Oh Spring," she sighed, as we three sat around the dining room table, "we could be charged with kidnapping, if Jeremy wished to go that route. This could blow up in our faces." She reached out and squeezed Brad's hand in hers. "You children are convinced, though, that this would be the best for you, Spring?"

"Yes, Mrs. Anderson," I replied, firmly. "I can't go back to that house, when that woman is there. I _won't_ go back when she's under his roof."

"I understand, honey. We'll take care of you, just Brad and me. You won't have to go back to your daddy's house if you don't want to," Mrs. Anderson cooed, patting my cheek. "Now, I'll see if I have some clothes you can borrow. You can sleep in the guest room for the time being."

"Thank you very much, Mrs. Anderson," I said, getting up and following her into her room, where she threw open her closet. Brad's mother smiled at me warmly, her blue eyes crinkling in the corners.

"Now Spring, you don't have to call me Mrs. Anderson. You can call me Margaret," she smiled, taking a beautiful pale pink cashmere sweater off of a wire hanger. She turned to her bed and tossed the sweater onto it, followed by a white denim skirt, a cream-coloured silk blouse, a black miniskirt and some other assorted items.

"Thank you very much, Margaret. I really appreciate this," I said, gathering the garments in my arms. "You really didn't need to do this, so thank you so much."

"You're very welcome, Spring," she said. "I know how it is to grow up in a home without love or affection, and I know how you feel when your daddy neglects you in favour of his new wife and baby."

I lowered my eyes, modestly, and headed for the guestroom. Brad was sitting on the bed, wearing a wide smile. "What are _you_ so happy about?" I asked, setting down the clothes on the polished mahogany desk. Brad didn't stop grinning.

"I brought these for you, to brighten up the room." He pulled his arm from behind his back and handed me a bouquet of daisies.

"Oh _Brad_," I gasped, taking them in my hands, "thank you so much! I'll put these in water right away!" I planted a loving kiss on his cheek, near the corner of his mouth, and Brad raised his hand to his lips, staring back at me.

When I came back with the flowers in a vase, Brad was still sitting on the end of my bed. "Spring," he whispered, "I've always thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world. Would you mind if I kissed you?"

"Why bother _asking_, Brad?" I laughed, grabbing his hands and pulling him to his feet. I took his face in my hands and pressed my lips on his, slipping my tongue into his mouth and probing his depths. Brad raised his hands to my waist, pulling me closer to him so that our chests were touching.

There was a knock on the door and we quickly separated, guiltily. I went and let his mom into the room. "Dinner is ready," she said, with a knowing smile on her face. "Did I interrupt anything?"

"No, Mom," Brad interjected, quickly, stepping forward. "Come on, Spring. Let's go. Mom makes the best meatloaf."

My life with Margaret and Brad Anderson was quickly shattered when Daddy finally arrived to take me home. It was a cold, blustery autumn afternoon and Brad and I were in the den, doing homework and watching TV. "OPEN UP, MARGARET! I KNOW YOU'VE GOT MY DAUGHTER IN THERE!"

I looked up at Brad, my eyes widening in terror. "Brad, he's here. I can't stay. I have to find a way out, the back way." I stood up, pushing aside my math text and grabbing his hand in mine. "You have to help me escape."

Brad smiled at me. "Of course, Spring. Come with me."

We crept toward the back entrance, which led to the alley behind their house, but Margaret was blocking the door. She held my bag in her hands, and she smiled at me, sadly. "I'm sorry, Spring. Your father has come to take you back. I can't keep you anymore." She pressed my bag into my hand.

"Mom, you can't send her back," Brad insisted. "Jeremy and Claire beat her. You can't let Spring go back into that household."

Margaret sighed, her eyes misting over. "Honey, he's her father. He has the rights, not me. I can't keep her here. I could get charged with kidnapping," said Margaret, as I shouldered the strap of my bag.

I realised now the true reason Margaret was sending me back to Daddy. She'd always had a crush on him, and was never able to deny him anything. Not even when she, Daddy and Mommy had been in high school together. Margaret had been Daddy's first girlfriend, before he met Mommy, and Margaret had never stopped loving him. And what Daddy wanted, when it came to Margaret Anderson, Daddy got.

"I understand," I said, softly, letting her know I knew the truth.

"Spring, I don't-"

"Save it," I snapped, pulling away from Mrs. Anderson's hand. "Everyone I've ever trusted has betrayed me." I looked at Brad, reaching out to run a hand through his dishevelled brown hair. "Thanks, Brad. I'll never forget you."

"Where are you going," he asked, sadly. "You live right down the street."

"I might not, later I might be dead," I replied, truthfully. "He might kill me. Or she might"

Brad glared at his mother, and then turned his dark brown eyes back to me. "Spring, let me marry you. Let me take you from your father's home. I'll do it for you, I really will. We love each other as good friends, and isn't that good enough?" He grabbed my hands in his as Daddy threw open the front door. "Please, will you marry me? I can save you."

I looked at Brad's handsome yet sad eyes, and then at Daddy's form in the front hall, his eyes blazing with rage. "Brad I have a duty. Baby Brandon will need someone to protect him. And I have to see that Claire gets what she deserves." I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, kissing him softly on the cheek, as Daddy clamped a hand on my shoulder.

"Spring, you're coming home NOW," he snapped, pulling me away from Brad. I stared into his eyes, as he silently begged me to reconsider.

But my thirst for revenge on Daddy and Claire was stronger than my platonic love for Brad. "I'm sorry, Daddy," I said, meekly. "I'll come home now."

"You're going to be punished," he snapped, barely able to control his rage. He turned his fiery gaze on his ex-girlfriend, glowering at her and baring his teeth. "How could you, Margaret? How could you kidnap my daughter?"

"It didn't seem like you missed her," Margaret replied, coldly, having done a complete turnaround concerning Daddy. I was impressed. "It took you long enough to come looking for her, Jeremy. What is going on in that house?"

"None of your goddamn business, THAT'S what. That's between me, Spring and her mother," he replied.

"Her mother is Priscilla Ferrara," Margaret snapped, folding her arms under her small breasts, leaning against the back door. "In case you'd forgotten, Jeremy."

Brad stepped forward, taking my hand in his. "She had bruises on her arms, Jeremy. Please tell me you and your new wife aren't hitting her, because if you are God help me, I'll kill you."

Daddy glared at Brad, and then his mother. "Did you plant those notions in that boy's head, Margaret? You still jealous that I chose Priscilla over you? You never cease to amaze me."

"I didn't have to plant ANYTHING, Jeremy. All Spring had to do was roll up her sleeves. The evidence is right there, on her arms," Margaret said, striding forward and rolling up my sleeve.

Daddy looked down at the faded bruises, disinterested. "So she's clumsy," he barked, harshly. "Aren't all children clumsy? Don't all children get into accidents?"

"Yes, if you mean accidents in the being-in-the-way-of-Daddy's-fist type accident," fired back Margaret. "I've changed my mind, Jeremy. You're not taking her back there. That woman Spring's told us what your wife does to her."

"She's a liar, a born liar," Daddy insisted, glaring at me hatefully. "She got that trait from her mother."

"Priscilla wasn't a liar," Margaret snapped, stepping forward to stare down Daddy. "Priscilla was a dreamer. She made up stories to escape the hell she called marriage. I was right to dump you, Jeremy. I saw you for what you really are - a cold, conceited bastard. How can you let Claire lay one FINGER on Priscilla's daughter? She must be spinning in her grave," Margaret snapped at him.

"I don't care," Daddy replied, his eyes flashing dangerously. "I honestly don't care. She's coming home, now. She belongs to me."

"Dammit, Jeremy, she's not a possession," insisted Margaret, her eyes widening. "She's your DAUGHTER, your flesh and blood!"

Daddy snorted. "I don't know about THAT, Margaret."

I looked at Daddy, the shock not registering. At first, I thought he'd just said those words to spite Mommy's soul, and to embarrass me. But when I looked into his eyes, I saw something I hadn't seen before. An emptiness.

"Daddy, what do you mean by that?"

"Don't call me Daddy," he snapped, letting go of my arm, which he had been squeezing tightly. Before flashing an annoyed glance at Margaret and Brad, he looked back at me. "I suppose it's time I told you the truth, Spring"

"Yes, Daddy. I'd like to know the truth," I insisted.

"Stop calling me Daddy," he snarled at me, his lips twisting into a ferocious scowl. "I'm not your daddy, I never was."

"What do you m-"

"Your slut of a mother cheated on me," he snapped. "She was unfaithful to me, brought another man into the marriage bed. We'd been going out for a year when she announced she was pregnant. I was so happy, because I was sure we would be a happy family. Just me, Priscilla and our little baby." Daddy laughed, scornfully. "Little did I know"

"Please, D-"

"Call me Mr. Danielson. I'm not your father," he interrupted me, before carrying on with his story. "Priscilla had become careless with her affair, and one night, I followed her out. I'd been suspicious for a few weeks, so I hired a private eye to follow her. He came back with reports of nights spent in a cheap motel with an unidentifiable man. So I followed her out one night. She took all the back roads to meet this lover at a cheesy motel, on Route 6. I rented a room next to theirs and slept in the parking lot, where I could see into the room. Priscilla was so confident; she and her lover didn't bother closing the blinds. She walked right up to the window, where everyone could see her, stark naked," Daddy snapped. "She didn't care that everyone could see, and that they would be judging me, pointing their fingers at me. Accusing me of not being adequate enough in bed to please my wife. That was when I began to doubt that our baby-to-be was actually mine." Daddy paused, flashing a glare in my direction. Shuddering, he continued.

"I stormed inside and confronted Priscilla and her lover. That man laughed at me, right in his face, flaunting his nudity. So, I did the only thing I could do." He flicked his eyes onto Margaret. "I killed him."

"Dad - I mean, Mr. Danielson, you did WHAT?" I exclaimed.

"I strangled him to death with my own hands, in front of my whore wife," he replied, glaring at me coldly. "Your real father is dead. I adopted you when you were born and had your mother put my name on the certificate."

"But you killed him?" I asked, my voice trembling. "So, I don't have a father."

He glared at me, his eyes hard and cold. "His name was O'Reilly, Patrick O'Reilly. Some low-life miner from Virginia, travelling into town for God knows what. Good riddance."

I pushed away the hand of the man I'd always called Daddy. "I'm going to find his family, then. They'll take me in."

"I wouldn't count on it," he snapped. "Patrick O'Reilly came from a privileged family. Eugene and Beatrice O'Reilly would never have approved of their only heir consorting with a Hispanic girl, and, not to mention producing a child with her. I'll give you some money to find them, but don't come crying to me if they turn you out in the cold."

***

TBC

Alex


	8. Chapter 7: A Family Of My Own

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CHAPTER SEVEN: A FAMILY OF MY OWN

"Good-bye, Spring." Brad took my hand in his and gave it a squeeze. He and his mother were seeing me off on my journey to Virginia, to find Eugene and Beatrice O'Reilly, grandparents I'd never known. Grandparents of whom I'd been robbed.

The man I called Daddy had not wanted to accompany me to the train station. Instead, he sent an envelope stacked with hundred dollar bills and a short note, warning me about getting into trouble and tarnishing his good name. I tossed the note in the trash at the station and stuck the money in a secret compartment in my jacket.

I kissed Brad on the cheek and got on the train, waving at Margaret and Brad as the train pulled out of the station. I clutched a photograph of Mommy in my hand, hoping her spirit would guide me.

"Please, Mommy," I begged, crossing myself as I'd seen her do many times. I was never religious, but I used to watch Mommy pray to her saints when Daddy wasn't around. Mommy grew up Catholic and Daddy was Protestant, but neither of my parents practised religion in our house. Mommy's praying to her saints was a secret she and I kept from Daddy. "Help me find my grandparents."

I imagined she whispered in my ear, "I will guide you to them, Spring. Trust in me."

I nodded to myself. "I promise, Mommy. I'll never stop trusting you."

When I awoke several hours later, I was at the train station in Virginia. I peered out the window and saw an elderly couple standing with a chauffeur, who was holding up a sign reading 'Danielson'. The old man was gentle-eyed and kind looking, with soft blue eyes and a bushy silver moustache. His wife had silvery, white hair tucked into a chignon at the nape of her neck, and she wore an emerald brooch on the collar of her tan pea coat. My grandmother clutched my grandfather's arm in her hand, and they searched the train, looking for me.

I realised I had the old woman's facial structure, her high cheekbones, her eyes. I grabbed my bags and hurried off the train for my grandparents.

"Spring?" the old woman asked, taking a tentative step forward, as smoke billowed around our legs. She held out a gloved hand to me. "I'm your grandmother. This is your grandfather, and this is Geoffrey, our driver."

Geoffrey tipped his hat at me. "I'll take those bags, miss." He grabbed them out of my hand and led the way to the limousine that would take me to my birth father's childhood home.

"Jeremy Danielson told us all about you," said my grandfather. "He says you're a very bright girl, and that you do very well in school. He also says you're helpful with your stepmother and half-brother."

I nodded, modestly. "I enjoy school."

My grandfather nodded as Geoffrey brought the limousine around. "Well, I'm sure we'll have a wonderful time getting caught up on lost time, Spring."

Geoffrey chose a scenic route. We travelled down sun-drenched back roads, draped in canopies of weeping willows, passing huge white mansions, large plantations, left over from the Civil War era.

"You see those mansions?" asked my grandfather. I nodded. "Those are left over from the War of Northern Aggression."

I smiled. "Up north, we call it the Civil War," I said.

Grandfather let out a booming laugh. "Civil War It wasn't a very civil war, in my opinion." He rubbed his moustache, his eyes sparkling.

Grandmother smiled. "You're going to like it here in Virginia, Spring. You'll be so sick of Southern hospitality by the time it's time for you to go back home, you'll be begging for your father to pick you up."

"I doubt that", I mused to myself. I hadn't realised I'd spoken out loud until my grandmother and grandfather both took on expressions of confusion.

"Whatever do you mean by that, dear?" asked Grandmother Beatrice.

"Oh, um, nothing. Really." I forced out a laugh, smiling tightly at my grandparents. "So Will my father be home? I want to see him."

Grandfather Eugene coughed, lightly, and lowered his eyes to his feet. "Your father, Spring He was murdered."

"Murdered?" I gasped, my heart sinking to my feet. Then it was true. That man _did_ murder my real father. "Someone killed him?"

Grandfather Eugene nodded. "In cold blood. The killer was never found."

I put a hand to my cheek, in utter shock. I wouldn't tell them Daddy, Jeremy Danielson, was the killer. At least, not right away. "I'd wanted to see him To catch up on the lost years See if we bore any resemblance to one another"

Grandmother Beatrice took my hand in hers, rubbing it. "When Priscilla called him to tell him she'd given birth to you, he put aside some things for you, when you came of age Your grandfather and I kept everything, knowing one day we would be reunited And Patrick has three brothers and a sister. They've all been so anxious over your return. They'll be very glad to see you." Grandmother smiled at me, but the sadness in her pale grey eyes tore at my very core.

My father was dead I would never be able to meet him now.

When we reached the mansion, my breath was taken away. I'd never seen a home this large. It looked to be even larger than the White House.

Grandfather Eugene laughed. "Impressed?"

"_Very_, Grandfather Eugene It's lovely," I gushed.

He and Grandmother smiled. "We know you'll enjoy it here Let's introduce you to your uncles and aunt before you unpack." Grandfather Eugene took me on his arm and led me into the house and to the dining room.

The dining room had to have been the size of Brad Anderson's entire house. It was huge, with rich mahogany moulding, and a long mahogany table. Seated at the table were three young men and a woman close to my age.

"Spring, this is your uncle Owen." Grandfather Eugene put a hand on the first man's shoulder. He looked to be in his early twenties with brown hair that brushed the collar of his polo shirt. He offered me a smile. "He's twenty-three, and the baby of the family."

"Hello, Spring." My uncle Owen gave me a quick, awkward hug before looking back at his brothers and sister. "She looks just like Patrick."

Grandfather Eugene moved on to the next uncle, a man with his brown hair buzzed into a crew cut. He had the demeanour of a military man. "This is your uncle Jack. He's the oldest of the boys."

Jack nodded at me. "Hello, Spring." He looked at Owen, nudging him. "She's the spitting image of Pat. It's uncanny."

Grandfather moved on to the last uncle, who appeared to be in between the ages of Jack and Owen. "This is Ryan, your father's twin brother," said Grandfather Eugene. Ryan had blond hair, blue eyes and a soft, gentle disposition. "He's a little slow," Grandfather whispered, his hands on Uncle Ryan's shoulders.

"Hi, Spring." He broke into a happy grin. "You look just like your daddy, my twin brother. I hope you're going to stay with us for a while."

I smiled at him. "I hope so too, Uncle Ryan."

He smiled and looked at his brothers. "We get to keep her?"

Grandfather moved on to my aunt, taking her hand in his. She wiped tears from her eyes, her hands trembling. "This is our eldest child, your aunt Julia."

My aunt Julia had long brown hair and large blue eyes. She smiled, tentatively, and walked toward me, sniffling away her tears. "Hi, Spring," she whispered, with a small voice. She looked so frail; I thought she would probably be lost in a heavy gale.

"Hi, Aunt Julia," I said.

She took me in her arms and hugged me, tightly. "We're so happy to have you here," she sighed. "You're going to have to meet your cousins. They're all so eager to see you."

"I'm glad to be here," I answered, truthfully. The sleeve of my sweater slipped, revealing a patch of dull bruising. I quickly pulled the sleeve down, but Aunt Julia saw.

"What happened to your arm, dear?" she asked; pulling at the heavy cable knit sweater. "Oh dear." She pressed a hand to her mouth. "Father."

Grandfather Eugene joined us and looked at what Aunt Julia was looking at. My uncles shared worried glances before joining us as well. "Spring, who did this to you? That Danielson man?"

I cringed. "He he did what he thought he had to do."

Aunt Julia shook her head. "Father, you have to do something about that." She scratched her chin. "Remove your sweater, Spring."

I obliged slowly, and folded the sweater, holding it in my arms. My bruises caused my aunt and uncles to gasp. "So what?" I mumbled. "Maybe I deserved it."

Grandmother shook her head. "Eugene, you've got to do something."

Grandfather nodded. "Of course, Beatrice. Call Harry Neale up immediately."

Uncle Jack put a hand on Grandfather's arm. "Father, I've got a friend who specialises in family court. Jonathan Chartrand. He can help us more than Harry can."

I stood back, my aunt holding on to my shoulder. "You're going to sue my father?"

Grandfather turned his blue eyes on me, shaking his head. "Your father is in heaven, Spring. This man who did this to you is a monster."

I sat on the dock, dangling my feet in the water. I tossed a rock into the lake, heaving a sigh. Everything was happening so fast, my head was spinning.

"Are you okay?"

I turned to see Uncle Owen approaching me, holding a beer in his hand. He was wearing the same purple, short-sleeved polo shirt and khakis; the cuffs rolled up, and he wasn't wearing any shoes. "I'm alright."

"What did he do to you, Spring?" he asked, sitting beside me.

"He hit me, that's all," I said, turning back to face the lake, tossing in another rock. "It was nothing."

"That's _all_?" Uncle Owen scoffed. "You know that Father and Mother are going to try and gain custody of you."

"I barely know them," I admitted.

"We're more family to you than Danielson is," Uncle Owen muttered. His dark expression softened. "I'm sorry Would you like to hear about your real father?"

I nodded. "I'd like that very much." I set down my last rock.

"Your father was the wildest of us kids," he said, a grin sneaking onto his face. "He made Mother ride on his motorcycle He was always very opinionated He let everyone know what he thought. He was a gay rights advocate He was a women's rights advocate He always fought the good fight" Uncle Owen paused. "He was the bravest of all of us"

"Jeremy Danielson said your parents didn't approve of my parents' relationship," I said.

Uncle Owen nodded. "In the beginning They'd picked a girl for him to marry, Lilia Banks. An old Southern family. They'd had everything planned out, right down to the names of the grandchildren and the years they would be born. Your father didn't like having his future written out for him. 'I'm going to make my own destiny,' he'd said. 'I'm not going to let you write it out for me. You can't write out my destiny. Destiny will find _me_.' He started to see Priscilla, your mother, on the side, while courting Lilia Banks On the night before his and Lilia's wedding, Priscilla came to him at the law firm where he and I worked and told him she was pregnant."

"With me."

"That's right, with you," Uncle Owen said. "The three of us went home immediately, and he told Father and Mother he didn't want to marry Lilia. He wanted to marry Priscilla Needless to say, Father was unhappy. He ordered your mother out of our house and forced your father into marriage with Lilia Not his best judgment, I have to say Priscilla married Jeremy Danielson on the rebound And four years later, your father was found dead in his bed, an apparent suicide." My uncle finished off his beer and tossed the can into the lake.

"You really shouldn't litter," I said, standing up and brushing off my jeans.

He smiled and held out his hand. "Help me up, Spring I'm drunk," he laughed.

I did as he asked me to and we walked back to the mansion.


	9. Chapter 8: Secrets in the Walls

****

CHAPTER EIGHT: SECRETS IN THE WALLS

That evening, before dinner, I wandered the halls of the mansion, exploring every nook and cranny. As I wandered down the west wing, I heard voices coming from behind a closed door. I tiptoed over to the door and put my ear against it.

"I never approved of Priscilla," said a deep, gravelly male voice. "She was bad news. I knew it from the start. He'd have been better off with the Banks girl."

"Jack, please," said a woman, most likely my aunt. "Patrick was in love with her. He never loved Lilia. And they produced a lovely daughter."

Uncle Jack grunted, and I heard the clinking of ice cubes. "I'm sure Spring's a wonderful girl."

"We have to make her feel welcome," said another male voice, perhaps my uncle Owen.

"I never approved," muttered Uncle Jack.

"We know," scoffed my aunt. Footsteps sounded near the door and I backed away. The door opened slowly. "I'm going to find Spring." She opened the door fully and stepped out of the room, spotting me in the hallway. "Hello, Spring."

"Hello, Aunt Julia," I replied, slowly.

"Did you hear us arguing?" she asked softly, shutting the door behind her. When I nodded, she sighed. "You see; we're really an old fashioned Southern family at heart. We don't hate you, and we never hated your mother Father just never approved of your parents having premarital relations." She wrung her hands, sighing heavily. "Your father would have loved to have met you."

"I would have liked to have met him," I replied.

Aunt Julia led me down the stairs, to the kitchen. "Would you like Carson to make you something for a snack? We'll be having dinner around six."

I shrugged. "I guess"

Aunt Julia led me to the kitchen, where Carson, the cook, was making up snacks. "Hello, Carson. Spring would like a snack before dinner," she said, greeting the older man.

He nodded his head at me, running his thick fingers over his handlebar moustache. "You must be the O'Reillys' long-lost granddaughter," said Carson, his blue eyes sparkling merrily.

I nodded, accepting a plate of crackers, cheese and fruit from Carson. "Thank you," I said, smiling at the older man. There was something about his eyes, something that calmed me. He reminded me a little of my mother around his kind, gentle eyes.

As I sat at the long, mahogany dining room table, eating my snack, Uncle Owen and Uncle Ryan watched me closely, as if they were ordered to make sure I ate every bite.

"Is it good?" Uncle Ryan asked, sweeping a hand through his blond hair. "Carson's the best cook."

Uncle Owen sipped a lime spritzer. "Of course it's good, Ry. Carson accepts nothing less than best."

I finished my snack and finished off my drink. "Will I be starting school here?" I asked, folding my hands in my lap.

Owen and Ryan shared 'looks'. "Well, yes, I thought we'd decided that," Uncle Owen stated, slightly surprised. "You'll be attending the Wedgewood School. Our parents have all ready enrolled you."

I sighed, thinking of Cristina and Brad, my two closest friends in Los Angeles. "Well it sounds like a nice place," I said, dumbly, at a loss for words.

"It is," Owen said. "Your aunt Julia went there, and so did your grandmother."

"I went to a school in Maine," Uncle Ryan interjected, as he spun a piece of twine around his index finger. "Because I'm slow. I had a lot of friends there."

Owen nodded, patting his older brother on the back, sadly. It was so tragic to me that my uncle Owen had to serve as my uncle Ryan's older brother and protector, when Ryan was nearly a decade older. Owen's love for Ryan, and his desire to protect him touched me deeply. I hadn't seen that kind of love since my mother was alive. "You're not slow, Ry," Uncle Owen said, disdainfully. "You're special."

He shrugged, pulling at the string around his hand. "Well, I don't mind," he said, hanging his head. "I've always been like this. I don't know how to be any way else."

I gazed intently at the two of them. "I heard Uncle Jack talking to Aunt Julia about Lilia, how my father never should have married my mother. Why does he hate her so much?" I asked, mostly addressing Uncle Owen.

He lowered his hooded brown eyes to his hands, which were resting on the tabletop. After a long, drawn out pause, he began to speak. "Priscilla was not the kind of girl our parents wanted your father to associate with. She was Priscilla was a prostitute," he said, spitting the words out as his cheeks flamed in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, Spring. Your mother had a difficult life before she met Pat. He helped her turn her life around."

"My mother _my_ mother was a hooker?" I gasped, staring at him.

Owen's eyes darkened. "You wanted to know, so I told you. Maybe you shouldn't ask so many questions, Spring. Maybe you should leave the past where it belongs." He stood up from his wing-backed chair and pushed it in, turning to Ryan and touching his arm. "Come on, Ry. Let's go take the dogs for a walk."

As Owen dragged him out the door, he paused to look at me, before following his brother out of the dining room.

I sighed, grabbing my empty dish in my hands. That discussion didn't help to quell my desire to find out the truth about Mommy. Not at all.

Now I was more determined then ever to find out about her past.


	10. Chapter 9: Welcome to Wedgewood

****

SUMMARY: Spring is enrolled in a prestigious private school, where she learns her family's secrets aren't quite secret.

CHAPTER NINE: WELCOME TO WEDGEWOOD

Geoffrey chauffeured Grandmother, Uncle Owen and me to the prepatory school the next morning, despite my protestations.

The old building loomed well above the tree tops, resembling to me a haunted castle. Ivy clung to the red brick face, and snaked up the walls.

"This is Wedgewood, Miss Spring," Geoffrey announced, stuffily, pulling up next to a curb.

"I'm sure you'll like it here, dear." Grandmother gave me a peck on the cheek.

"If any of the snobs give you problems, I'll take care of 'em," Uncle Owen offered, awkwardly, giving me a quick, cool kiss on the cheek. "Knock 'em dead, Spring."

I gazed at the large, forboding school building, a knot of dread turning in my stomach. "I'm nervous."

"Don't be, Spring. Wedgewood is a fine school," Grandmother explained, patting my hand. "The teachers are well acquainted with the O'Reilly family name."

"That's one of the things I'm worried about, Grandmother. What if the other kids think I'm a snob? I've never been to a private school before." I shrugged on my uniform jacket and accepted a wad of lunch money from Uncle Owen.

"You'll be fine, dear." Grandmother clasped my hand in hers before giving me a kiss and coaxing me out of the limousine. 

All eyes, I felt, were on me as I emerged from Grandmother and Grandfather's limo and scurried up the steps of the school, trying to draw as little attention to me as possible.

Keeping my head down, I slipped into my homeroom seat just as the bell rung.

"Class," my teacher, Mrs. Winterbottom, announced, tapping her ruler against the chalkboard. "I'd like to welcome Spring O'Reilly to Wedgewood School."

Students began to whisper and I could feel my cheeks redden.

Did people talk about my family at dinner the way I talked about Jennifer Lopez's latest boyfriend, or the most recent Tom Cruise movie? I swallowed hard.

"Would someone like to show Spring around?" asked Mrs. Winterbottom.

A few hands shot up, and I was glad that I wouldn't be thrown into the lion's den alone.

One of the hand-raisers was a handsome, brown haired boy with a kind smile, who caught my attention and gave me a half-wave.

"Ok, Claude and Rosemary, you will show Spring around Wedgewood School," Mrs. Winterbottom said, pointing out the handsome boy and a girl with flame-red hair. 

"I'm Claude Stanton. This is my sister, Rosemary," the brown haired boy said, pointing to the girl with red hair and freckles. "Welcome to Wedgewood, Spring."

"Spring," Rosemary repeated, tilting her head to one side. "What a curious name."

"It was my mother's choice," I explained, shrugging my shoulders.

"I think it's unique, and nice," Claude said, quickly, shooting Rosemary a hard glare.

"I've never met anyone with that name," she said.

"That's why it's unique," Claude replied, rolling his eyes. "Don't be rude, Rosemary."

"Claude and Rosemary, you may take Spring on a tour of the school after I pass out your schedules," Mrs. Winterbottom said, gathering a stack of papers into her hands.

After the schedules were passed out, Claude, Rosemary and I were excused to begin our tour of the Wedgewood campus.

"Wedgewood School was built in 1854, on the property that once belonged to August and Elinore Wedgewood, a wealthy couple. August, a sea-captain, decided to build the school in the memory of his and Elinore's dead son, Rudolph, and named it Wedgewood. That first year, Wedgewood accepted ten students, and thus, the legend of Wedgewood School was born," Rosemary droned, reading from a thick brochure. "Wedgewood's campus consists of the main dorms, a cafeteria, a gift shop, a library and the teacher's quarters - "

"Rosemary, you sound like you're giving a lecture," Claude scolded, yanking the brochures out of his sister's hands. "You've probably bored poor Spring to death."

I shook my head, eagerly, hoping not to offend Rosemary. "Oh, no, I found it quite interesting."

Claude rolled his eyes. "You don't have to lie for Rosemary's sake. She can handle it, Spring."

I shook my head. "Rosemary, I found it very fascinating."

Claude shrugged and gave her back the book, and she continued reading. "In 1893, the teacher's quarters were burned down in what has been called the Great Accident of '93, although many, to this day, believe it was most certainly not an accident. Many believe that a former student, Ophelia O'Reilly, set fire to the teacher's quarters when Professor Marcus Fields refused to give in to Ophelia's misguided romantic feelings."

"Ophelia O'Reilly?" I asked, breathlessly. "Is that why everyone started whispering when they learned I was an O'Reilly?"

Rosemary grinned, cattily. "No, that was because your - "

"Shut up, Rosemary," Claude interrupted, sharply. "This is Spring's first day. Save the bitchiness for tomorrow."

I blushed at Claude's defense of me, and laughed, nervously. "Oh, it's all right, Claude."

Rosemary smirked. "Your family is mighty famous in these parts, Spring," she said, sneeringly. 

"Oh, really?" I raised an eyebrow at Rosemary.

"Not _only_ because your ancestors were lunatics, but also because your uncle is a retard, your mother killed herself and your grandfather raped his daughter Julia," she said, gleefully rejoicing in my shock.

"ROSEMARY!" Claude snapped, sternly, "PLEASE!"

"What are you _saying_?!" I gasped, in disbelief. I couldn't, I wouldn't believe the horrible things Rosemarry Stanton was saying about my family. I _couldn't_! I shook my head, as if trying to jar loose the horrid accusations from my memory.

"You should have stayed in Los Angeles," Rosemary said, coldly. "Everyone knows about the O'Reillys. News spreads fast in a small Southern town."

Claude put his arm around my shoulders. "Come, Spring. Let's go look at the dorms, ok?" He led me away from Rosemary, firing an angry glare back at his sister. "I'll see you later, Rosemary," he grumbled.

***

"Why was she saying such horrid things about my family?" I asked, as Claude and I walked the campus.

"Rosemary likes to spread gossip. She thinks it makes her a part of the 'in-crowd'," he explained, embarrassedly. "In all actuality, they find her quite boring to be around."

"But what does that have to do with me?" I asked.

"The girls she tries to associate herself with are Danielson girls," Claude explained.

"Danielson girls?" I managed to ask, my knees weakening.

"Yeah, Sofie, Jade and Briget Danielson, Jeremy and Luisa's daughters," Claude said.

"Jeremy Danielson?" I could only repeat fragments of Claude's sentences, I was so stunned.

"Yeah, him and his second wife. I guess he has a son, somewhere, and he has a daughter named Belle, with his first wife, Nannette. You see, Spring, everyone in Kennwood knows one another's business." Claude grinned.

"What can you tell me about Jeremy Jr," I asked, trying not to betray my nervousness or my fear.

Claude kicked up some pebbles as we walked toward the cafeteria. "Well, I guess he married a girl his parents didn't approve of, because no one heard of him since before he married off into the Banks family."

'There's so much you don't know,' I thought to myself, wrapping my arms around myself, 'and so much_ I _don't know, as well... But I intend to find out.'

*********

TBC

Alex


	11. Chapter 10: The Phone Call

****

CHAPTER TEN: A PHONE CALL

"Spring, you've got a phone call." Grandfather Eugene's maid, Mrs. Walmsley, greeted me with the telephone when Claude and I came home to do our math homework. "It's from your father."

My heart dropped to my knees. "Jeremy Danielson?" I asked, weakly, and Mrs. Walmsley nodded.

"Yes, dear... I'm afraid he has some bad news." Mrs. Walmsley pressed the phone into my hand and shut the door behind me.

"Hello?" I asked, coldly, following Mrs. Walmsley into the kitchen area. "What do you want?"

"Spring." The cold, angry man that had refused to see me off to Virginia was replaced with a sniveling, sobbing wreck who could barely speak my name. "Spring... You've got to come home."

"Why?" I asked, bitterly. 

"Baby Brandon..."

"What did you do to him?" The words flew out of my mouth even before I'd had a chance to think them through.

"I didn't do anything," he pleaded. "Brandon is sick. We need you."

"What about Claire?" I asked, sighing heavily.

"She left," he replied, through his tears. "I need you to come home."

"Did you even stop to think that maybe I liked it here with my _real_ family?" I asked, angrily. "You told me when I left that - "

"Forget what I said when you left," he interrupted. "I was angry, and hurt. Right now, your baby brother needs you, Spring." He hung up with a slam and I stared at the phone in my hand.

"What's wrong?" Claude asked, pulling his math book onto the kitchen table and opening it to the right page.

"My fa - my adoptive father wants me to come home, for an emergency. My baby brother is sick," I explained, loud enough so that Mrs. Walmsley could hear.

She sighed, shaking her head. "Mr. Eugene won't let you go back to that man," she said, clucking her tongue.

"Spring? What's going on?" Claude asked. "What's happening?"

"My adoptive father, Jeremy Danielson Jr., wants me to come back home," I admit, shyly.

Claude's face turned ashen white. "Spring, you can't go back to that man," he said, reaching for my hand.

"I'll be back, Claude... I might even bring baby Brandon with me. His mother abandoned him, and I know how much my adoptive father hates babies. I'll probably be able to talk him into letting me take Brandon back with me." I said, knowing in my heart of hearts how foolish the thought was.

Claude took my hand in his. "I really like you, Spring... I don't want you to get hurt."

I smiled at him and shrugged my shoulders. "You've got nothing to worry about. I'm not going to let Jeremy Danielson get to me."

***

"I'll be back, I promise, Grandmother." I said, standing in the train station with my grandmother. "I'll try to bring Brandon with me, too."

"Just don't let him hurt you, Spring," Grandmother said, clinging to my hand. "If he tries _anything_, call us and Geoffrey will be on his way to bring you home."

I nodded, smiling at my grandmother and giving her a kiss on the cheek. "I'll do just that, Grandmother." 

As I turned to get on the train, I thought I saw someone familiar, lurking in the shadows.

Shaking the odd thought out of my mind, I found my seat and gave the conductor my ticket.

***

When I stepped off the platform, my adoptive father was waiting for me, holding little Brandon in his arms.

When he spotted me, he offered me a weak smile, whispering something into Brandon's wispy blond curls. 

"Hello," I greeted him, formally, setting down by bags by my feet. "How have you been?"

"I've managed to hold up," he explained, sounding so different then the man he'd been before. "I've missed you, Spring. We all missed you."

I rolled my eyes, startling him. "Even Claire?" I asked, raising one eyebrow, following him to his car.

"She...we were both troubled, Spring. I was wallowing in my guilt over our affair, and your mother's death..." he murmured, as if his mumbled semi-apology would wipe the slate clean.

I paused, remembering the pain his hands and cold, harsh words caused. "I'm not ready to forgive you, yet," I replied, as coldly and firmly as I could. "But I'll be there for Brandon. Hopefully _he_ won't suffer some of the pain I've endured."

My adoptive father hung his head as he opened the back seat door, fitting the baby into his car seat and buckling him in.

"Claire left this for you," he said, as I climbed into the passenger side seat, handing me an envelope. "She wanted me to give this to you."

I opened the envelope and pulled out a note from my wicked stepmother. My mother's diamond and gold charm bracelet fell onto my lap.

_Dear Spring,_

I'd like you to have this bracelet. I know it once belonged to your mother, and that it's not mine to give you in the first place, but I hope you'll take it as a token of forgivenss.

I can't stay here any longer, and I know I won't be back when you come home for Christmas.

I'm sorry for the pain I caused you. Your father and I were never a compatible match. It's too bad we both realized it too late.

I know you'll care for Brandon as if he were your own.

Please forgive me,

Claire

I folded up the letter and stuck it in the envelope, clasping my mother's bracelet onto my wrist, surprised by Claire's strange letter.

"Spring, I wasn't completely truthful to you," he said, softly, as he pulled out of his parking space.

"What do you mean?" I asked, holding my wrist protectively to my chest, as if he'd try to take Mommy's bracelet away from me.

"Claire didn't run off," he sighed, miserably. "She committed suicide."

"What?!" I asked, shrilly, startling my baby brother into tears.

"She was unhappy with her life, and our marriage, and she shot herself," he said, sadly, reaching back to give Brandon a pat on the back. "I told your grandparents shortly after you left, but asked them not to tell you."

I stared at the bracelet and the envelope. "So it's just you, me, Brandon and Mommy's ghost."

My father's head snapped up, startled, and bore his icy blue eyes into mine, but not a word was passed between us. I just sat back in my seat and closed my eyes, pressing my forehead against the cool window pane.

************

TBC

Alex


	12. Chapter 11: Ghosts

****

DISCLAIMER: The broken camellias do have a symbolic meaning. Go to the Meaning of Most Flowers () to learn more

CHAPTER ELEVEN: GHOSTS IN THE SHADOWS

"I _did_ love your mother, Spring," he said to me over dinner, after nearly ten minutes of barren, uncomfortable silence.

So startled was I, that I dropped my fork onto the floor. "I never doubted that you loved her, once," I replied, when I'd regained my composure.

"I still loved her even when I was...seeing other women," he continued.

"Mr. Danielson, I don't - "

"Please, call me Daddy?" he begged, his blue eyes rimmed with red, and sad, putting down his knife and fork. "I miss having someone around to call me Daddy, Spring."

"_Daddy_," I snapped bitterly, to appease him, "you treated me like crap. How can you just expect me to drop my life in Kennwood and come back?"

"I know I did, Spring, but I want to rebuild our lives together. I want to make it up to you." 

I sighed, staring at the black speck in my water glass, disinterestedly. "The only thing that could make me happy would be if Mommy came back from the dead. Nothing can make me happy."

My adoptive father lowered his head, holding back his strawberry blond hair away from his forehead. For a second, I thought maybe I saw tears gather in the corners of his blue eyes, but he blinked them back. "I miss her, Spring. I still miss her."

"Maybe you should have thought about that before you brought Claire into your life," I said, angrily, hurtfully, tossing my napkin onto my plate. Right then, I didn't care if my words hurt him. I wanted him to be as hurt as I was. "I'm going to bed. I'm not hungry anymore."

"Spring, wait, I - " He grabbed my wrist as I got up from my chair and grabbed both of our plates.

"I'll tuck Brand in, ok?" I sighed, twisting my arm out of his grasp. As I turned my back on him to put the dishes in the kitchen, I whispered, "I don't hate you, Daddy."

I don't think he heard me. 

I don't think he _ever_ heard me.

***

After I tucked Brandon into his crib and sang him a lullaby, I retired to my own room and dressed for bed.

After reciting the prayers Mommy had taught me when I was just a little girl, I turned down my sheets and climbed into bed.

As I dozed away in a light slumber, the slumber before the dreams came, my door creaked open.

"Spring?"

I sat up in bed, my heart racing. "Mommy? Mommy, where are you?" I called out, holding a hand to my chest, feeling the thud of my heart through my skin.

Where my mommy had stood was a puddle of water, and the scent of broken pink camellias, Mommy's favorite flower, wafting in the air.

***

"It was only a dream," Daddy said, waving off my vision of Mommy the following morning. "Your mother is dead, Spring. There's no such thing as ghosts."

"I told you I saw her," I said, firmly, grinding my fists into my thighs to keep from screaming at his refusal to look at me, to hear me.

Daddy poured over the morning crosswords, sipping his coffee and pausing to take a bite of his scrambled eggs. "It's not possible, Spring. I thought you gave up on those fairy tales long ago."

"This isn't made up, Daddy," I snarled, slamming my fists into my thighs, and startling him into looking at me. "I saw her in my room, last night! She left a spot of water where she'd been standing! And I smelled her perfume, of camellias! I'm not making this up!"

Daddy put down his paper and coffee, and folded his hands in his lap. "Ok, so maybe you believe you saw Mommy - "

"I _saw_ her," I snap, angrily. "Why won't you believe me?" I jumped up from my chair and grabbed my backpack, slinging it over my shoulders. "If I don't leave I'll be late for school. Good bye, Daddy."

I tore out the front door, slamming it behind me.

"Hey, Spring!"

I looked up to see Brad Anderson standing on his front porch with his mother, sipping a cup of coffee and biting into a donut. "Hi, Brad!" I walked over to Brad and his mother, to greet them. "How have you been?"

"We've been great," Margaret said, chipperly. "It's so nice to have you back for the fall."

"It's nice to be back," I said, shrugging, "although I plan on returning to Kennwood in the spring. I've worked everything out with my grandparents, and the school."

Brad smiled, his eyes crinkling in the corners. "I'm glad you're back, Spring."

"Can we walk to school together?" I asked Margaret, smiling sweetly at her.

She nodded, eagerly, handing Brad his lunch money. "Have a good day, kids," she said, going back into the house.

"A lot has happened since you went to Kennwood," he said, as we started our trek to school. We passed my house, and saw my adoptive father standing in the living room window, arms crossed over his chest. Brad frowned. "How has life been since you moved back in to the house?"

"It's been...ok," I said, sighing. "I'm still so angry at him, at what he did. I'm almost _glad_ Claire died, as horrible as that is."

"It's not horrible to think that, Spring. She did terrible things to you," Brad said, quickly, taking my hand in his. "In the end, she couldn't deal with herself, and she took her own life. She was very, very troubled."

"So, that's two wives who have committed suicide," I muttered, in reference to my adoptive father. "What a track record."

Brad put an arm around my shoulders and held me against his chest.

*************

When I got home, my adoptive father was sitting in the living room, holding baby Brandon on his lap.

"Hello, Spring. How was school?" he asked, getting up, resting my half-brother on his hip.

"It was ok," I replied, shrugging my shoulders. "I miss my friends at my other school. Have my grandparents called about me?"

He shook his head. "No, I'm sorry, Spring. They haven't called yet."

"Ok. I'm going up to my room then," I said, and hurried up the stairs, not waiting for a reply.

As I passed the west wing of the mansion, I thought I saw a figure in the shadows, and smelled the scent of Mommy's perfume.

Now, I was convinced I was sharing a house with a ghost.

*************

TBC

Alex


	13. Chapter 12: Stalked

****

Disclaimer: I make no claims on VC Andrews, her stories, ideas or characters. For all intents and purposes this is an original story, inspired by the late great VC Andrews.

****

Summary: Stranger and stranger things happen, making Spring wonder if she is indeed sharing a house with a ghost.

****

A/N: Also, for the person who was wondering about Spring's relationship with Brandon, he is technically her half-brother, although she isn't "blood related" to either Jeremy or Claire. Coming from someone who was adopted, it's kind of hard to suddenly stop thinking about the people who raised you as your family. So basically, he's her half-brother by law.

- - - 

CHAPTER TWELVE: STALKED

When I awoke the next morning, I was surprised to find a small bouquet of camellias at the foot of my bed, bound with a piece of string.

I held them to my nose and breathe in the scent; it reminded me of Mommy, and still does to this day. 

I could almost imagine I was back in her arms again.

- - - 

"Daddy, did you leave the camellias in my room?" I asked him, when I came down from my room for breakfast. I placed the flowers in small vase and filled it with water.

My father arched an eyebrow at me, as he stood over a frying pan of sausages and bacon. "No, Spring, I didn't."

"Well, when I woke up, I found them at the foot of my bed. I figured you'd left them for me," I replied, shrugging my shoulders, setting the little vase on the windowsill above the sink.

Daddy sighed. "Well, it wasn't me. You must've gotten them from Mommy's garden and forgotten about it," he explained, running his hands under the faucett and wiping them on a towel.

"Well, if it wasn't you, or me, who was it then?" I asked.

"I don't know. Maybe the ghosts." Daddy rolled his eyes at me. He frowned when he realized I didn't laugh along with him. "Come now, Spring. You don't actually believe we have /ghosts/ in here, do you?"

"I don't know. Maybe we do," I sighed.

"There are no such things as ghosts, dear." My adoptive father shook his head at me. "You're old enough now to stop believing in silliness like that. Leave that to little Brandon."

"Well, whatever. I need to get ready for school."

***

When I closed the front door behind me, Brad was waiting on the porch for me. "Hi, Spring!" he said, chipperly, slipping his arm around my shoulders. 

"You're /_way_/ too perky for seven in the morning," I grumbled, as we headed for his pick-up truck. "I'm still half asleep."

Brad grinned at me. "I'm just happy to see you, m'dear," he beamed.

I only rolled my eyes. "Riiight." As I opened the passenger side door, and turned to get in, I spotted something amongst the shadows. 

Something or some_one_. 

"Brad... There's someone hiding in the bushes." I pointed to the dense thatch of evergreen bushes, tugging on the sleeve of Brad's bright blue windbreaker.

"What? I don't see anything, Spring," he said, squinting to where I was pointing.

"I saw someone crouching in the evergreen bushes," I exclaimed, tossing my bag in and shutting the door. "I'd better investigate..."

Brad just shook his head, following after me. "Spring, come back! We'll be late for first perio - "

"Forget that, Brad. This is _important_," I repled, firmly, waving him off. "It could be a burglar or something..."

I headed directly for the bushes, Brad hot on my heels, and poked around, peering in, trying to see if I could find any evidence of a lurker.

"Find anything yet?" he asked, impatiently, tapping his toe.

"Hmm... not yet," I answered, dropping to my knees. I picked up a small scrap of torn material and turned it over in my hand. It looked very familiar to me. "Looks like a piece of his or her clothing got caught on one of the bushes." I held it up to Brad, and he inspected it closely. I raised it to my nose, and gasped in surprise.

It smelled faintly of my mother's camellia perfume!

"Someone was in my room last night - whomever was hiding in the bushes must have been in my room!" I cried, shrilly, pocketing the piece of material. "Oh Brad... What if I'm being stalked?"

"We should call the police, Spring."

"Right, let's go in and tell Daddy what we've found! He can call the police!" Brad and I ran into the house to get my father.

- - - 

Daddy sniffed the piece of cloth, and set it on the kitchen table. "It _does_ smell like Mommy's perfume, Spring, but don't you think you're overreacting?" he asked, doubt evident in his voice. 

"I'm _not_ overreacting, Daddy! I saw someone in the bushes, and when Brad and I went to investigate, we found this scrap of clothing."

He sighed yet again. "Well, I wouldn't want to jump to conclusions," he stated, shaking his head, "but I'll call the police if it'll make you feel better."

I sighed. "Thanks, Daddy... I'm worried about this person. Whomever he or she is got into my bedroom last night and left the flowers on my bed."

"Don't worry, dear. I'll take care of everything." Daddy got up and gave me a peck on the cheek. "Now, you two had better be off to school, or you'll miss your first period."

- - - 

School was boring and uneventful, and Brad and I could hardly wait before we were finally free.

We immediately headed for his pick-up, when I spotted an unfamiliar person by his truck.

"Who are you?!" I called out, tensing. "Why are you following me?"

The person emerged from behind Brad's Ford, a puzzled expression on her face.

"Spring? Is that really you?" Cristina Ledezma, an acquaintance from middle school, wass standing by Brad's truck, gaping at me. "Oh my god, Spring! It's been such a long time!"

"Cris, are you the one who's been following me?" I asked, bewildered, my jaw dropping.

Cris stared at me, onfused. "No... I was waiting for Brad," she explained, shrugging her shoulders. "We were supposed to go see that new Ben Affleck action flick after school."

I turned and looked at Brad, and the horrified expression told me he'd forgotten all about his date with Cris. 

"Oh god, Cris, I totally forgot!" he gasped, stricken with horror. "You see, someone's been stalking Spring, and we've been kinda preoccupied with it... Her dad called the cops, but they haven't turned up anything..."

"For _real_?" Cris gasped, her jaw dropping in shock. 

Brad nodded. "They broke into her bedroom last night and left a bouquet of camellias on her bed."

"Camellias were your mother's favo - " Cris stopped herself. "Oh wow... This is so scary... It's ok, Brad... We don't have to go out. You can go with Spr - "

"No, you guys can go," I said, backing away from Brad and Cris. "I had some stuff I'd wanted to take care of anyway."

"You sure?" Brad asked, worriedly.

"Yeah, I'm sure. You made plans with Cris before this all happened. I'll be fine," I explained, grinning at him. "See ya later, I guess?"

"Yeah," Brad said, a little unsure, opening his door. "Stay safe, ok Spring?"

"I will. See ya, Cris." I waved back at them, as I headed back toward the school building.

"Bye, Spring. Lemme know what happens with this creep," she called out.

I nodded at her, and rushed back into the school building.

- - -

After meeting with my English teacher, I emerged from the school, and to my surprise, it was all ready dusk.

Sighing, I headed for the bike path.

It seems that all of our senses are heightened at night time. The cracking of tree branches sounds a hundred times louder when it's dark out.

The hairs on the back of my neck rose, and I rubbed the goosebumps on my bare arms.

'Shouldn't have stayed so late with Mrs. Steele,' I thought to myself, imagining that there were footsteps behind me, and very thankful our house was only eight minutes away from school. 'I should have gone with Brad and Cristina.'

As I picked up my pace, the footfalls behind me also pick up their pace.

Now I was sure I was being followed.

- - -

TBC

Alex


	14. Chapter 13: A New, Special Love

****

Disclaimer: This is a fictional story based on the style of VC Andrews. The basic idea is mine.

****

Summary: Spring finds out the true identity of her 'ghost stalker', and gets her first kiss.

****

A/N: Nearing the end of the first book in the miniseries! *whoops it up*

- - - 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: A NEW, SPECIAL LOVE

I stopped dead in my tracks, tensing. "Whoever you are that's following me, I swear, I've got a blackbelt in karate," I lied, clenching my hands into fists. "I'll kick your ass if you try to lay a hand on me."

"Ah, come on, Spring. I know you're no blackbelt."

I spun around, to confront my 'stalker'. "Uncle Owen? What are you doing, stalking me?" I exclaimed, letting out a slight sigh of relief.

"It's not 'stalking'," he sniffed, dismissively, almost appearing _offended_. "My parents sent me to watch after you, when you left. They don't completely trust your adoptive father, if you know what I mean."

I put my hands on my hips and scowled at him. "You had me thinking someone was out to get me! Especially after you left the camellias in my room!"

Owen shrugged. "I thought it was a nice touch," he said, nonchalantly, flipping his medium-length brown hair out of his face. 

"I almost thought we were being haunted," I snapped, angrily, refusing to forgive and forget just yet.

Uncle Owen only sighed, smiling at me. "Come on, kid, lighten up a little."

"You make me think my life is in danger, and then you tell me to lighten up?" I asked, arching an eyebrow at him in incredulity.

"Generally, yes," he stated, shrugging again, shoving his hands into the pockets of his khakis. "Mind if I walk you home? It could be dangerous out at this time of night." He winked at me.

"Ok," I huffed, still unhappy with him, "but Grandmother and Grandfather have some explaining to do."

- - - 

Needless to say, Daddy was not pleased when he spotted Uncle Owen walking me up to the front door, casually swinging his arms.

"You, you're _his_ brother, aren't you?" Daddy asked, stepping onto the porch and shutting the screen door behind him. "What are you doing here? Doesn't your family live out in the sticks, in Virginia?" Daddy sneered, scornfully, hands shoved into the pockets of his slacks.

"Exactly, Mr. Danielson," Uncle Owen nodded, agreeably, ignoring Daddy's dig at his birthplace. "You see, my parents really took to Spring in the short time she was living in our mansion, and they wanted me to go and see how she's settled in, and report back to them."

Daddy scowled. "That seems awfully odd. You people do have telephones, don't you?" he barked, sharply, obviously unhappy that Uncle Owen had come to see us.

"They wanted me to go in person." Uncle Owen said, firmly, shrugging. "I don't make the commands. I just follow them, Mr. Danielson."

Daddy sighed, folding his arms across his chest. "Well, thank you for keeping an eye on her. I'll take care of her now." He motioned for me to come after him, his gaze hard.

I glanced back at Uncle Owen. "Good bye, Uncle Owen. Thank you for walking me home." I reached out and squeezed his hand.

Uncle Owen smiled amiably, squeezing back. "'Bye, Spring. See you later." 

- - - 

"So it was just your birth father's brother?" asked Brad, at lunch time the next day. "That seems kind of odd. Didn't you say he was kind of weird - you know, in the head?"

"No, that's Uncle Ryan. Uncle Owen just seems... I don't know, he seems regretful and sad." I took a brief pause and bit into my tuna salad sandwich.

"I dunno... Your entire biological family seems kind of 'off' to me." Brad sipped his Diet Pespi, slowly. "Like they're stuck in the 1950s or something."

"They're just old-fashioned people. I like them, and I hate to say this, but I miss Wedgewood School," I admitted, my face flushing just a bit.

Brad shrugged. "Aren't you going to go back?"

"I'm thinking of bringing that up to Daddy tonight," I said, finishing my sandwich and starting on my Diet Coke. "I'm going to ask him if I can go back to Virginia to spend the rest of the year with my real father's family."

"Well, I'd hate to see you go again," Brad said, offering me a sad, puppy dog look.

"I think you did just fine without me," I grinned, motioning to Cristina Ledezma with a nod of my head. "She seems really into you."

Brad laughed. "Cris and I are just friends, right now."

"Right now, eh?" I said, teasingly. I waved to Cris to come over and join us.

"Hey guys," she said, smiling winningly. "What's up?"

"We found out who Spring's stalker is," Brad said, his mouth full of food.

Cristina latched on to my arm. "Oh, no! Who was it? Did you call the police?" she asked.

"It was just my uncle Owen, from Virginia. My grandparents sent him to watch after me," I snorted, with a roll of my eyes. "They want him to spy on me and report back to them."

Cristina shook her head. "That's kind of odd."

"I don't know. My entire paternal family is odd," I sighed, drinking my Diet Coke.

Cris shrugged. "Most families are, Spring."

"Not quite like _my_ family." I rolled my eyes and crumpled my brown bag lunch into a ball. "I'll see you guys after school."

I gave the two of them a small wave before hurrying off to my next class.

- - - 

When classes had ended, and I went to find Brad, I was surprised to find that Cristina wasn't with him.

"Where'd Cristina go, Brad?" I asked, greeting him with a hug.

"She met up with some of her girlfriends," Brad said, almost seeming sad.

I smiled at him. "So, have you kissed her yet?" I teased.

"Spring," he scoffed, "don't be immature."

"How does it feel to be in love?" I persisted, as we got into his truck and buckled ourselves up.

"Well, being in love kind of feels like having a million Roman candles exploding in your heart," Brad said, with an earnest shrug, not meeting my gaze. 

"Oh?" I stared out the window.

"Kind of like what happens when I look at you."

I furrowed my brow and gazed at Brad, my heartbeat slowly picking up in pace. "What do you mean by that?" I asked, shakily.

"It means that's how I feel about you," he repeated himself.

"What about Cris?" I asked, dumbly.

"She's a nice girl and a good girl, but we're just friends," he said, hands on the steering wheel. "She wants something more than I can give."

"What?" I asked, suddenly losing my capacity to form coherent sentences.

"My heart. She wants my heart, but you already have it." Brad turned the key in the ignition, signalling the end of the conversation. 

I sat back in my seat, stunned into silence, my heavy heartbeat echoing in my ears. 

- - -

TBC

Alex


	15. Chapter 14: Betrayed In the Worst Way

****

Disclaimer: This is a fictional story based on the style of VC Andrews. The basic idea is mine.

****

Summary: Spring is betrayed by someone very close to her.

****

A/N: Eh, I had this worked out a while ago. The end is coming.

- - - 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: BETRAYED IN THE WORST WAY

Brad walked out and opened up my door for me, holding out his hand. "I hope I didn't scare you too much with that heavy stuff in the school parking lot," he said sheepishly, helping me out of the car.

"No, I just needed some time to think," I explained, still a little dazed by today's events. "You're my best friend, Brad. I think..." I paused, searching for the right words. "I'd be honored to be your girlfriend."

Brad broke into a bright smile, and leaned in, giving me a soft peck on the cheek. "Don't you worry about anything, Spring," he said, hugging me to his chest tightly. "I'll take care of you. I'll make sure no one ever hurts you again."

I pulled back from him and brushed a lock of his brown hair from his face. "How about you give me my first real kiss?"

Brad's grin widened, if that was even at all possible, and leaned forward, his eyelids drooping. 

I closed my eyes and pressed my lips against his, wrapping my arms around his neck and sinking into the embrace.

"Spring! Get in here now!" Daddy snapped, and Brad and I separated, guiltily.

"Daddy," I said, rubbing the back of my neck.

"Have you no shame?" he grunted, narrowing his eyes at Brad. "Get in here now. And Bradley, go home."

I broke away from Brad, giving his hand squeeze. "I'll see you tomorrow," I whispered, and grabbed my backpack.

When I was back inside the house, Daddy slammed the door, smelling of onions.

"What was that shameless display in the middle of our driveway?" he asked, sharply, "where all the neighbors could see?"

"We weren't doing anything wrong," I fired back, stomping up the stairs, annoyed with his sudden prudence.

Daddy followed, "You were kissing that boy in broad daylight!"

"He's my friend!" I countered.

"Are you a whore like your mother?" he asked, his eyes flashing dangerously. "You know what happens to women like that!"

"Mommy wasn't a whore!" I screamed at him, kicking him in the shin, out of rage. 

Daddy grabbed my arm, twisting it in his vise-like grip. "If you keep up this wanton behavior, you'll turn into a whore like your mommy was! You're no better than she was!"

I tried to twist away from him, but he wouldn't let me go. "Let go of my arm," I snapped. "You're hurting me."

Daddy didn't listen, instead, shoving me toward the bed. "So you want to be a whore like Priscilla?" Daddy pushed me onto the bed, holding me down on the mattress. "I'll show you what it's like to be a slut, Spring."

He pressed his face near mine, forcing his tongue into my mouth. I could smell the alcohol on his breath, and I tried not to throw up.

"Let me go!" I tried to push him off of me, but his heavy weight held me down.

"You look just like her," he sneered, coldly, his hands holding my arms to my sides. "You're no better than she was."

"I'm not her, Daddy! I'm not her!" I struggled to free my arms, to protect myself, but he was too determined.

"I'll show you, Priscilla, I'll show you," he muttered, forcing my legs apart. "I'll show you."

"Please, don't do this, Daddy!"

He slapped me across the face, leaving behind a throbbing welt. "Little whore. Stupid little whore." 

I closed my eyes, trying to pretend myself away from this awful place. Doing what Mommy and I used to do, and make believe a special place where nothing bad could get me.

I imagined that Mommy would protect me.

As my conjured-up ghost image of Mommy made her way toward me, on the bed, a shattering pain brought me back to earth.

I began to scream, as Daddy forced his way with me. He slapped me again, and pressed his palm over my mouth, muffling my cries.

I could see the desparate look in his eyes, and I deflected my gaze to a water spot on the ceiling.

Daddy let out a loud shout, and fell over me, his warmth filling my insides like an angry storm.

I couldn't move; I was paralyzed.

As I struggled to acclimate myself with my surroundings, Daddy was thrown off of me with a sudden, strong force. Daddy was slammed into the wall, his attacker's back to me.

I quickly wrapped myself in my bedsheets, backing away from the two men.

"You son of a bitch!" The man who threw Daddy into the wall slammed his fist into his face, drawing blood.

I pressed myself against the sliding balcony door, holding the bedsheets about me, trembling like a tree in a gale. 

The person who had assailed my adoptive father with a flurry of punches stood over his unconscious form and turned to look at me.

I gasped, in shock, and felt the edges of my vision crawling in on me.

- - -

TBC

Alex


	16. Chapter 15: My Hero

****

Disclaimer: This is a fictional story based on the style of VC Andrews. The basic idea is mine.

****

Summary: Who is it that rescued Spring? And what sort of fate will befall her adoptive father?

****

A/N: Yay it's done! On to Summer! *grins stupidly* ^____^ 

- - - 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: MY HERO

When I opened my eyes, the sharp sunlight stabbed into my eyes, causing me to wince.

I saw the form slouched over in a chair, and I shot up in bed. "Daddy, no!" I cried.

The figure stepped forward, into the light. "Spring?" he asked, tentatively.

"Uncle Owen?" I asked, and he moved his chair closer to the bed. "You saved my life."

"I'm only sorry I couldn't have gotten there sooner," he said, softly, taking my hand into his. "That bastard hurt you pretty good... Two broken ribs, bruises..." He shook his head in regret.

"What's going to happen to him, and little Brandon?" I asked weakly, settling back into the hospital bed.

"He's going to go to jail for a long time," Uncle Owen announced, firmly, leaving no room for doubt. "He's going to go to jail for a _very_ long time, Spring. Where he can't ever hurt you again."

"God, it was so horrible," I whispered, closing my eyes, unable to get the horrible look in his eyes out of my mind.

Uncle Owen held my hand in his. "Your friend Brad is on his way here," he said, smiling at me. "And we're going to take you back home, Spring. You'll be coming back with me once you're well enough."

"Heck, I'm well enough right now!" I exclaimed, sarcastically. "Let's go then!"

He laughed. "Not quite yet," he said, with a smirk. "The doctor wants to keep you at least over night. Perhaps two days. They want to make sure there's no internal damage."

"At least he's going to get what he deserves," I sighed, closing my eyes and pulling my blanket up to my chin. "At least he'll get what's coming to him."

Uncle Owen murmured in agreement. "May he rot in hell, where he belongs."

Just then, the door opened, and my nurse poked her head in.

"Mr. O'Reilly, a Mr. Anderson is here to see Miss Danielson? May I let him up?" she asked, timidly.

"Of course, Nurse Patterson," Uncle Owen said, gregariously, jumping up to give the surprised nurse a quick hug. "The more the merrier!"

I fought back a giggle as he waltzed Nurse Patterson around the hospital room before allowing her to let Brad in.

Brad entered the hospital room, bearing a vase of flowers and a stuffed animal. "When I heard what happened to you, Spring... I just lost it," he said, softly, setting the flowers on the night stand by my bed.

Uncle Owen walked over to the door. "I'll leave you kids to your devices," he teased, shutting the door behind him.

I looked up at Brad and smiled, taking his hand in mine. "You don't know how happy I am to see you, Brad."

"I was so scared when my mom told me what he'd done... I thought maybe he'd killed you or something... We always thought your father had something to do with your mother's death... Mom was like, 'He did it to Priscilla, and now he's gone and done it to her daughter'." Brad leaned in and brushed my hair out of my face, tenderly. "I'm so glad you're ok, Spring... For the most part."

"I'm fine," I said, offering him a brave face. "As fine as I can be after what happened." 

"He's going to jail," Brad said, visibly relieved. "There's no way he'll get away with this, Spring. No way."

"I'm glad." I pressed my lips against his knuckles. "I'm so grateful to have a friend like you, Brad."

"And I'm so lucky to have_ you_." He leaned forward once more and pressed his lips against mine, giving me a gentle kiss. 

It was not at all like the way my adoptive father kissed me the night previous, forcing my mouth open with his tongue, so much so that my jaw still ached. With Brad, it was all right. 

I wrapped my arm around his neck, pulling him in closer, deepening our embrace. When we finally separated for air, I gazed up at him and smiled.

"I love you, Spring." Brad pulled away from me, digging for something in his pocket. He pulled out a small velvet box and produced a diamond ring. "This is for you... It's sort of a going-steady gift... I'd like for you to be my girlfriend." He blushed from his neck to the tips of his ears as he held out the little diamond ring to me, his hand shaking.

I accepted it from him and slid it onto my ring finger, showing it off proudly. "Of course, Brad," I gushed, "I wouldn't have it any other way."

He sat back in his seat and took my hand in his. "Nor would I, Spring. Nor would I." He kissed the back of my hand and gave me a pat. "I have a feeling that we'll be ok."

"Me too. Me too." I closed my eyes once more, letting the darkness claim me.

This time, there was no uncertainty in the dark. In the dark was my future, my life as a woman, my life out from under the shadow of Jeremy Danielson. My life as Spring Priscilla O'Reilly.

And my new, wonderful life with Brad Anderson.

- - -

the end.

Alex


	17. Epilogue: A New Beginning

****

Disclaimer: This is a fictional story based on the style of VC Andrews. The basic idea is mine.

****

Summary: Spring returns to Wedgewood, Virginia.

****

A/N: Wedgewood is a made up town. Meaning I made it up.

- - - 

EPILOGUE: A NEW BEGINNING

I stepped out of the limousine, and gazed up at the old red brick building, ivy snaking up its walls, reaching toward the sky.

"Welcome back to Wedgewood," my grandparents' driver, Geoffrey, announced in his distinctive Southern drawl. "We did so miss you, Miss Spring."

"I missed you too, Geoffrey," I beamed, as Brad came round to offer me his arm. "It's so great to be back. Back where I belong, with the ones I love." I grinned at Brad and he winked at me.

"Spring!" Claude Stanton and his sister Rosemary ran up to Brad and me, enveloping me in a surprising hug. "We heard you were coming back! We're so glad you're here! We missed you!"

"Are you ok? How was your trip?" Rosemary asked, as we entered the school building. "We heard what happened to you, what that awful man did."

"I'm ok now," I said, holding onto Brad's elbow like a feeble old woman. "For a while, I sunk into a deep depression, but now, I'm ok."

"I think it's because she's back here, in Wedgewood," Brad said, slipping his arm around my waist. "I trust you two will look after her, and take good care of her for me?"

"Of course," Claude exclaimed, brightly.

"Don't you put the moves on my girlfriend," Brad joked, shooting Claude a mock-serious glare.

"Oh, no," Claude said, holding up his hands, "I wouldn't dream of it!" He shot me a wink, and I suppressed a giggle.

I'd almost forgotten how much I loved this school, and returning brought all the pleasent memories flooding back.

I was finally back where I belonged, with people who cared about me.

I could finally begin living my life again.

- - -


	18. Author's Notes

Thanks to everyone who reviewed the story, Spring, and those who didn't review, but enjoyed it nonetheless. I appreciate it!

Stormy Daye: Wedgewood is the name of the town, as well as the school.

Aims: Hope you're feeling better!!! Can't wait for more of Lark's Lullaby!

Erin: And you're right, she already did kiss Brad. I only realized that after I posted the chapter:-p Lol.

Stay tuned for the next book in the Four Seasons miniseries, Summer. Unfortunately, for me, I lost four chapters of Summer when my computer's Zip drive ate my disk :-p

~ just alex


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